Black Poetry : A letter to the amerikkkan soldier

while waking up early morning
maybe oh five hundred hours
do you think of the possibilities?

that one day you may have someone
trapped in between crosshairs
waiting to
(send them to hell, that's what you're taught)
pull, send a clap that collapses a father/
a mother/ maybe a little boy age 12/
into the hands of a grave
that has made your bed too?

while waking up in the morning
slave to ignorance
bastard son to patriotism
(if sam is your uncle who's your father?)
do you think that on that day you can be placed
on a geographical chessboard
to serve as a pawn for another
man's sick game?

do you KNOW what you're fighting for
or being fueled by what you're TOLD
hearsay has killed many men
and women

while waking up in the morning
in the middle of the night
shaking/sweating/
still hearing bullets whizzing
by your future/ bombs
blasting away at your sanity
nightmares that rape you
nightly and no one can stop
the violation/